


this is how the summer ends

by veidtous



Series: Color Theory [4]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 15:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10574325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veidtous/pseuds/veidtous
Summary: And that’s how the summer ends; with strawberry soda and the lingering taste of warm brown sugar on the corner of sun soaked lips.





	

01.

He wakes to the scent of pineapple and pine nuts, tucked underneath his arms in escape from the morning sun filtering through the blinds. The body stays still, cemented, but the voice stirs.

“You should buy darker curtains.”

He smiles and begins to chase the scent with the tip of his nose.

 

02.

It’s dark now, the only thing his eyes can see is the remains of a crackling fire and the sound of waves lapping at the shore.

“Do you think it’ll always be like this?” Simple. Easy. A carefree sense of idyllic love.

The wood burning catches with the dying scent of lemongrass underneath his nose.

“It can if we let it.”

 

03.

Sandalwood leaves his hands a burnt sienna. It mixes with the crisp apples in his mouth dipped in honeysuckle. Sticky fingers trace his lips from their hiding spot in the back of the cafe.

“How do you feel today?”

A loaded question; a conglomerate of answers mill about in his mind. 

“I feel fine, just a little tired.”

But he’s always just a little bit tired. The days seem too long, the nights too short. Cold to warm becomes cold to cold, the warmth fleeting. 

He smiles, and rubs some of the color on already rosey cheeks.

 

04.

The mornings come in a cocktail of lighter fluid and aftershave, razor marks leaving cuts just underneath his jaw where fingernails used to occupy.

“You shouldn’t smoke so much.”

Concern, but in disarray and potentially venomous.

“You should mind your own business.”

The lemongrass is gone, faded. The pine nuts replaced with something sterile, something clean. A less personal touch in bed, and bodies that end up always just out of reach.

 

05.

Apricots come as a surrender. The almonds a half hearted apology.

“Do you want to go out to dinner?”

A stalemate; an unstoppable force driven by love meets an immovable wall powered by some happily-ever-after.

“Yeah.”

The carton of minty menthols gets thrown in the trash on the way there, but the pineapple is still in the closet. He hopes he’ll see it again some day.

 

06.

Lilacs mask the smell of love letters written on old paper. There is no use for them now.

He stores them away in a book on a shelf that will never be used save for collecting the settling dust. A raspberry candle sits on top of it; a decoration, a reminder of something sweet that used to live there.

Things will be better in time, won’t they?

 

07.

“You look well.”

Three hundred and eighty-nine days of smelling leather and soap. Something not exactly recognizable but nevertheless furthest from sweetness.

The grocery store they used to frequent all of the time together looks foreign, a melancholy he thinks of only at night.

“You too.”

There’s limes and lemons in their hands. Bitterness, but with enough thought could become sweet to even the harshest of pallets. 

“I stopped smoking.” 

“I started eating oranges.”

A smile passed between, and lingers when eyes travel to the sliced orange peels resting out on the counter for testing. 

“You always hated when I ate tangerines before going to bed.”

 

08.

It’s banana cream and chilled vanilla instead of flowers. Something cold, something sweet, and something that keeps the future propelled. 

“I started seeing someone.” Observation: they’re trying to help him through the overwhelming cloud.

“Is it helping?” Objective: it does and it doesn’t, but he keeps trying.

“I think so.” Conclusion: all he can do is try.

“I’m glad.”

 

09.

“How do you feel about eggshell?”

Color cards held up for two eyes to see; a head resting on another shoulder. Content in the air.

“It’s too bland.”

A snort, far from malicious.

“No, that’s reserved for your cooking.”

A laugh, taken happily. 

“How about ginger?”

The lemongrass is still gone; a time and place too far in the past to be revisited by the present now. Lilac and raspberry still hide old love letters on crumbling paper. 

 

10.

And that’s how the summer ends; with strawberry soda and the lingering taste of warm brown sugar on the corner of sun soaked lips.

**Author's Note:**

> (hello, it's me) messin' with tastes and smells.
> 
> it's been a tough year y'all but i'm still trying to move forward and keep my head up. been a bit difficult these last few weeks even with the better things happening in my life, but i missed writing so have this small little thing.
> 
> this will also sort of serve as my goodbye to writing for the football fandom. it's been a ride and a half and i wish you all well. i'll leave my works up if you ever want to read them again but i won't be writing more for this fandom anymore (football or tennis).
> 
> this could be read from either perspective, though i did have marco in mind when i wrote it, but it could go either way.
> 
> thank you for any kudos and comments. xo
> 
> ps: [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3_TWoskKV4) is the song that the title is from, it always makes me a bit melancholy.


End file.
